


we carved spaces in each other's hearts

by bitter_cat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Short One Shot, this won't make much sense unless you read tinydemonwriter's 'the threads that bind'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_cat/pseuds/bitter_cat
Summary: One early Sunday morning, Fausta opens a letter, hoping to see the chicken scratch of his writing.One early Sunday morning, she learns what it's like to lose a part of yourself.
Kudos: 6





	we carved spaces in each other's hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyDemonWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyDemonWriter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Threads That Bind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467528) by [TinyDemonWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyDemonWriter/pseuds/TinyDemonWriter). 



> Hello, hello, I suggest you go read Tiny's fic before this or else I'm afraid it won't make much sense without the context.
> 
> To Tiny, hope you enjoy! Consider this a revenge for the angst you keep writing :)

_Madam,_

_It is my painful duty to inform you of the passing of Aelius Roscio Varro Marius. He died with great honor, defending our holy land of Rome. His proper burial will be seen to in the coming week. Rest assured, he will reach the fields of Elysium._

_By the emperor's command I am to forward the enclosed message of sympathy from Our Grand Emperor Caelius. I am at the same time to express the regret of the regiment at the soldier's death in Rome's services._

_I am to add that any information that may be received as to the soldier's burial site will be communicated to you in due course._

_I am,_

_Madam,_

_At your disposition,_

_Aesop Tullus, First Commanding Officer_

* * *

So, this is what it’s like to feel your heart break.

Fausta lets out a strangled laugh at the thought as she sinks to the ground in the middle of the foyer, bare feet slipping against the grain of the wood. She lands on the floor with a thud.

She’d woken up that morning with a lightness in her, wrapped in the delicate scent of fresh lilacs by her bedside. She had felt okay then, filled with a steadiness she seldom felt much of these days. A feeling that left her the second her fingers brushed against the seal of that cursed letter.

Now all she’s left with is heavy grief and a mounting panic. She feels young again, so small, so little. The world seems to close in, spaces collapsing and pressing down on her, suffocating. Inch by inch by inch.

But it’s not. She feels the sweat on her back and the roughness of the wooden floor, and knows that nothing is closing in on her. Not a single thing.

She thinks that might be worse.

It’s only her. Her and that little foyer on an early Sunday morning, the early misty air outside finally lifting to let the sun warm the earth. A clearing weather that does nothing for the cold emptiness seeping into her.

She can’t remember much of what had happened this morning. Doesn’t remember if she leaned in to smell the lilacs like she usually does or if she had curled up back in bed just a little longer, wrapping herself up in her nostalgia of fuller mornings. She doesn’t know why she’s still lingering in the foyer, she’s just hoping she’ll wake up from this nightmare.

Or maybe her grief the size of an ocean will be enough to drown her.

The house is silent for the first time in ages. The morning light filters in from the windows, illuminating the dust motes in the air that fill up the room. The lingering warmth from the flashes of laughter and soft smiles cast shadows on their corners. Reminders, a constant ebb and flow of memories that keep pulling her back to a different time, a better life.

She’s not really present, not fully real, until all at once, she is.

“Fausta?” A voice breaking through her haze.

She aches. The soft steps get closer, and she feels a hand come to rest upon her trembling back.

“Darling, why on earth are you sitting on the floor like that?” Velia’s voice settles over her, snug and hazy like a dream.

Fausta lets out a shaky exhale. She focuses on that gentle hand on her back and she thinks. The world outside is slowly waking up to another normal day. But here and now, it’s just the two of them, and suddenly, Fausta feels her memories stir. While shivering on the floor, she remembers a pair of brown eyes.

Honey brown eyes so lively.

Loving brown eyes now dull, now cold.

Velia sighs. “Fausta, what is going on? You’re looking like the world is ending.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know--is it? Tell me what’s running through your mind.”

She laughs, hears herself cracking on the first sound that comes out of her throat. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing, I’m all out of thoughts.”

“Spare one for me then?”

She doesn’t trust her voice to handle the weight of the news. So she lets her hands relax their death grip on the paper, passing over the wrinkled mess to Velia.

There’s a lull in their conversation and Fausta lets her eyes fall shut, turning her gaze from reality. She stops, just sits and listens, the hitch in Velia’s breath echoing within her. It had been such a fine morning, what a shame to see it all go to waste. Her own world is crumbling on itself and fading, a little star collapsing, a soft light there and gone, and it won’t matter she was here once. She thinks of the absence of her name from that letter, of a place she wished to rightfully call hers.

There and gone.

What will be left to remember the traces of her?

God, it’s been months since Fausta had seen him, and already she feels her memories of him start to blur at the edges.

She grips her thighs, inhaling sharply.

When she starts listening again, Velia is asking her: “-sta? Fausta! Look at me, _please_.”

The words echo through her mind, colliding against every one of her thoughts.

Her breathing feels strange and she can’t slow it down. The hand is still on her back, and so she leans into it and breathes in, trying to calm herself. But the words remain.

_Please._

Oh god.

Please please please, god, not him, why?

She doesn’t feel her face being lifted until her eyes flutter open.

Suddenly, Velia is in front of her and her world comes back into focus in a rush of soft light, like the sun warming the earth, yellow against brown, golden and honey undertones that haunt her mind, memories blurring with the red-rimmed eyes before her, red like what she imagines painted his body. His blood. She feels her mouth go dry and her vision goes hazy, she sees those warm brown eyes again, sees the sticky sweetness of honey, she hears a voice telling her he’ll be home before they know it and she hears herself saying safe travels, don’t go looking for trouble. We’ll be here. We love you. Come back soon. She hears a door closing, the same echo that haunts her every nightmare.

Wooden door closing against stone. Striking a flame. Striking a lie.

_Please? Look at me?_

In that small instance where nightmare blurs into reality, she only finds silence.

Velia leans in, lips catching onto hers, tears falling on her skin. Fausta presses into the kiss, arms coming up to wrap around her neck, gripping.

“I love you” she whispers.

It sounds more like a goodbye to someone no longer here.


End file.
